


showered with love, free of hate

by orphan_account



Category: The Beatles
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bathtub Sex, Bubble Bath, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Homosexuality, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Homosexuality, McLennon, Sweet, The Beatles - Freeform, Violence, i guess this is au because paul has a mental problem, okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:16:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1679555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul nodded, and slid into the tub. John turned the tap off. He got a fresh cloth and began to wash Paul's arms and the top of his knees where they stuck out of the water. Then he rolled up his sleeves and took off his wet gloves and stuck his hand under the water. He washed Paul's legs and ran the cloth over his cock, resisting the urge to stroke Paul to hardness and then keep going until he came in the water. But Paul was too innocent for John's dirty ways.</p><p>"You really need some new friends, Paulie," John said. "You're too good for a hoodlum like me."</p><p>Paul shook his head, "You're not a hoodlum. You're the nicest person I know, Johnny. You're my best and only friend besides Mike, you know. No one else likes me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	showered with love, free of hate

**Author's Note:**

> This is also on my wattpad. http://www.wattpad.com/49993112-mclennon-one-shots I hope you like it.

John shivered as he pulled his pack of ciggys from his pocket. He stuck one between his lips and lit up. He stuck them back in his coat pocket and wrapped his arms around himself. Winter had come hard and heavy this year, leaving Liverpool covered in the thickets layer of snow John had seen since he had still lived with his mother. There was at least a foot of thick, wet snow, and on top of that there was a thin layer of ice that cracked each time John took a step onto it. If step was the word to use. It was more like a slow trudge.

John pulled the cigarette away from his mouth to let out some smoke. Along with the smoke came the whiteness of his breath. His lips shuddered, and a shiver racked his frame. The cold made his teeth ache, and John let out a string of curses. Why the fuck was he out here in this weather when he could be home, warm in bed? He thought about turning around, but then he rememembered the reason why he had left home in the first place.

Paul had called him, a sobbing mess. His father had gotten drunk again, and as usual, had taken his anger out on Paul. It wasn't unusal for John to get calls like the from Paul in the middle of the night, but this one was different. He seemed much more desperate, much more afraid. He had literally begged John to come over, not that John would have said no. John's boy was in trouble, and John would do everything he could to take him to safety. (Plus, the call had ended abruptly with a quick "I love you" and then there was a scream and the line went dead. And if that didn't worry John, nothing else did.)

John saw Paul's house up in the distance and began to walk a bit faster, but trying not to make any noise. John didn't know if Paul's dad was still home, or if he had left for the night, like he usually did when he was drunk.

John got to Paul's yard, and went to where Paul's window was. He picked up a few pebbles, and threw them at Paul's window, like Paul had instructed him to do. He threw three, and then the window opened, revealing Paul.

"John!" Paul whispered loudly. "Thank God you're here! Quick, get up here, Dad's leavin' and I don't want him to see you!"

John nodded, and climbed his way up to Paul's window. Paul helped John in, and then quickly closed the window, latching it tightly. John stood up and brushed himself off. Paul wrapped his arms around John and placed his head in the crook of John's neck. John hugged him back, not even hesitating.

"Paul-"

"Shh, listen," Paul said, squeezing John a little. John listened, and for a moment there was only silence. Then, there was a loud crash and screaming.

"Dad! Stop it!" John heard Mike scream.

"Shut the hell up, boy! You're no good, just like your mother and that faggot brother of yours!" said Paul's dad, and John heard skin on skin.

"You leave Paul alone! You bastard! He's a better man than you'll ever be, even if he is a queer!" Mike said back.

John heard James grunt, and then there was a bang.

"Paul, do you want me to go down there?" John said, rubbing Paul's back soothingly.

"No, no," Paul said. "He'll kill you, then me and Mike. He thinks, um, he thinks we're together, and if you came down the stairs from my room, he'd kill me, John. He'd kill me and you. I've tried to fight him off earlier, but-," Paul pulled away from John and showed him his arms. They were littered in bruises and scratches. It had been obvious that Paul was too weak to fight off his father, but he'd tried so hard to protect his little brother. "Mike sent me up here."

Even though Paul was older, Mike always had been a bit more masculine and muscular than Paul, plus Paul was innocent and weak (he had something wrong with him, making him slow and 'special' as grownups like to refer to it as). So, of course, Mike would be the one to try to take on the big man.

There was silence again, and then the slamming of a door. James was leaving. Everything was fine. John and Paul waited until they heard the car leave the driveway, and then they ran downstairs.

Mike was on the ground, picking out pieces of glass from his arms when Paul ran to him and wrapped him in his arms. "Mike, are you okay?" Paul asked.

"Yeah," Mike said. "He just gave me a few bruises. You're the one who needs some aid. Ey, John?"

John looked at Paul's face. It has been dark in Paul's room, so he didn't see all of the damage.

Paul's eye was bruised and bleeding. His nose was probably broken, telling by the shape, and was gushing blood. His lips were swollen and cut. His neck had bruises that resembled hands wrapping around it, and his shirt was soaked in blood. His hair was thick with blood. But, through it all, Paul was still smiling.

"Yeah. Come on, Paulie. Let's go get you cleaned up," John said, taking Paul's hand in his own. Paul nodded, and kissed his brother's forehead, thanking him. Mike nodded, and then went back to removing the glass.

Once out of sight of Mike, John asked, "Can I carry you?"

Paul looked at him incredulously. "Really?"

"Um, you just seem weak, is all," John said, acting nonchalantly.

"You can carry me," Paul said.

John's eyes widened, but he wrapped his arms around Paul and lifted him, carrying him bridal style up the stairs. Paul giggled.

"To the bath," John said. Paul nodded.

John took Paul to the bathroom, and sat him down on the closed toilet. He grabbed a cloth and wet it. Then he got on his knees in front of Paul and began to clean Paul's face gently, dabbing his nose, eyes, and lips. Paul sat perfectly still, even though John could see him fighting back a grin. John knew how much Paul loved to be taken care of, something his father didn't do. And John was more than happy to.

Once Paul's face was as good as it was gonna get, John pulled at the hem of Paul's shirt. "We're gonna have to take this off, princess." Paul nodded, and let John take off his shirt.

There were cuts on his stomach, and bruises on his chest. "Oh, Paulie, what did he do?" John asked rhetorically. John had been through this before. Every time James went on one of his fits, John always came over and doctored Paul back to health. Each time, it killed him inside.

"John," said Paul, his voice breaking. John looked up and saw that Paul was crying.

"No, honey," John said. "Don't cry. He's gone now. I'm right here, I always will be, and I'll take care of you. I'll keep you safe with me forever. I want you to know that. I'll keep you safe." John placed a hand on Paul's cheek, wiping away tears. "Please, stop crying. God, Paulie, please." John didn't know what to do. Paul usually cried, of course, but it was different this time. Paul cried of pain most of the time. This one was of vulnerability. So John did the first thing that came to mind.

He lifted himself a little and pressed his lips onto Paul's as gentle as he could, careful not to aggravate Paul's wounds. Paul squeaked and flinched, but didn't remove his lips from John's. Paul kissed back a little, and John chuckled. Paul was an awful kisser. Paul had once told him that he'd never kissed anyone, and John believed him, but now he _really_ believed him.

John pulled away and looked at Paul, searching for an answer to an unasked question; _Was that okay?_  Paul only grinned. John laughed, and kissed his nose. "Let's get you cleaned up, doll."

Paul nodded, that stupid grin still plastered to his face. John cleaned the cuts on his chest, and kissed each bruise. Paul watched him, his smile never faltering.

Once John was done, he stood up and asked, "Do you want a bath?"

"Can I have bubbles?" Paul asked. John laughed and nodded.

"Of course you can, baby," John said.

Paul squealed. He stood up and began to take off his pants. John blushed a little, then began to run the bath water. He put in the soap formula and watched as bubbles began to form rapidly. He ran his fingers through them, making sure the temperature was perfect for his Paul.

Once he turned around, Paul was naked and was standing obediently. John stared at him, taking in the bruises and cuts among beautiful porcelain skin, and then said, "Get in. It's ready."

Paul nodded, and slid into the tub. John turned the tap off. He got a fresh cloth and began to wash Paul's arms and the top of his knees where they stuck out of the water. Then he rolled up his sleeves and took off his wet gloves and stuck his hand under the water. He washed Paul's legs and ran the cloth over his cock, resisting the urge to stroke Paul to hardness and then keep going until he came in the water. But Paul was too innocent for John's dirty ways.

"You really need some new friends, Paulie," John said. "You're too good for a hoodlum like me."

Paul shook his head, "You're not a hoodlum. You're the nicest person I know, Johnny. You're my best and only friend besides Mike, you know. No one else likes me."

"Well, they're crazy. I don't see how people don't like you," John said, wetting Paul's hair with the cloth. Blood came out of his hair in globs. Once it was free of most blood, John put shampoo in Paul's hair and began to lather. "Because I love you, you know. I love you so much, Paulie."

"I love you, too, Johnny," Paul said, and then he looked down at his hands, which were messing about nervously.

"It's okay, Paul. Don't be nervous about who you love," John said. "It doesn't matter what your dad says. He's a dumb ol' bloke anyway. It's okay to be queer."

Paul looked up at John and smiled. "It is?"

"Yeah."

"Good, because I love you."

John laughed, and washed the shampoo from Paul's hair. Once Paul was all clean, John offered to take Paul to bed.

"No, I want to sit here a bit longer, while the water's still hot," Paul said. After a pause, he said, "Do you like bubbles, Johnny?"

"Sure," John said, trying to please Paul.

Paul grinned wickedly, and then pulled John into the tub. John shouted and tried to break free, but Paul held tight. It's not like John couldn't push him off with little effort, but John promised himself and Paul to never hurt the younger lad.

"Oh my god, Paul!" John laughed. "Look at us!"

Both boys were squeezed into the small tub, and the floor was soaked and Paul was laughing wildly and bubbles were everywhere. "You're a silly goose, you know that, right?" John asked.

Paul nodded. "But you said you loved me, and you can't take it back."

"I'd never," John said, standing up in the tub. He peeled off his soaking winter jacket, leaving him in only a shirt and his drain pipes. He wanted to take them off, because they were sticking to him grossly, and so were his pants, but he didn't want to make it awkward for Paul. He went to sit down, but Paul said no.

"You need to take off your clothes! You can't be in the bath in clothes. And you say _I'm_ the silly goose!'

John laughed awkwardly, but took his clothes off anyway. He tried not to notice Paul staring at him, and sat down. Paul smiled, and took some bubbles in his hands and leaned over and blew them gently, sending them onto John's chest. John giggled and put some bubbled on Paul's chin.

"I'm Santa!" Paul said with a laugh.

"You're much cuter than Santa," John said.

"And you're quite hot," Paul said, and then blushed. "Sorry. I heard Mike talking about he thought these girls were hot, and he told me it meant that they were pretty, but in a different way. So, I guess you're hot, too. Sorry."

"No, no," John said, leaning toward Paul. "It's okay. I like it when you compliment me."

"I like it when you call me princess," Paul said. "And, I liked it when you kissed me."

"You did, princess?" John asked, reaching out and running his hand on Paul's shoulder. "Can I do it again?"

Paul nodded. John smiled and pulled Paul into his lap. Paul giggled, but only for a second because John was kissing his neck. Paul let out a sigh. John wrapped his arms around Paul's waist and ran his tongue over Paul's throat. "You're so pretty, Paulie. My pretty princess."

Paul giggled, and pulled John away from his neck. "Kiss my lips, not my neck, silly!"

"Oh, but, Paulie," John grunted. "I want to kiss you all over."

Paul whined. "You can, John. Later. I promise, but now I want you to kiss my mouth."

John chuckled and removed his lips from Paul's neck. "Fine, but I'm remembering that promise of kissing you all over."

Paul nodded, "I don't break promises."

John smiled, and moved his hands to the back of Paul's neck and played with the hairs there. Paul giggled, but then grunted.

"Patience," John said. He then placed kisses to the corners of Paul's mouth. Before Paul could complain, John put Paul's upper lip between his own and sucked on it gently. Paul hummed, and leaned into the kiss. He sucked on John's lower lip, following John's lead. John ran his hands over Paul's back and shoulders.

Paul hissed. John had hurt one of Paul's cuts. He pulled away from the kiss to apologize, but Paul put his hands on John's shoulders and pulled him back to Paul's lips. John didn't even stop, but kept kissing Paul with as much passion he could muster while still being gentle.

John ran his tongue over Paul's bottom lip. Paul moaned, and slid his tongue out and licked John's. John moaned and gripped Paul tighter. John slid his tongue into Paul's mouth and licked his teeth. Paul moaned and ran his tongue on John's. John sucked on Paul's tongue, and Paul sighed.

Paul pulled away, gasping. "John, I like kissing you."

John chuckled, "I like kissing you, too."

"But, I _really_ like kissing you," Paul said slowly, and then looking down. John followed his eyes and saw exactly what Paul meant.

Paul was hard, and his head was peeking out of the water. John grinned and looked back up at Paul.

"You're so pretty," John said, and began to kiss Paul again. Paul kissed back, but this kiss wanted more and was full of lust. John's hand drifted down to the water and gripped Paul's cock. Paul gasped and pulled away.

"John!" he said, and looked into John's eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna make you feel good, Paulie," John said.

Paul looked a bit scared, but when John began to stroke him a little, Paul relaxed.

"More," Paul said. "More, Johnny, more."

John complied. His fist went faster and rapidly, and he twisted his wrist and squeezed in all the right places. Paul moaned wantonly and whined.

John attached his lips to Paul's neck, over a bruise. He knew Paul's dad would never notice a love bite after one of his wild nights, it'd seem like he'd put it there.

"Johnny, Johnny!" Paul shouted, and bucked into John's hand. John licked over Paul's collarbones and nibbled. "Please, keep going!"

John felt Paul's cock twitch, and knew he was close. He licked Paul's lips once, and Paul was cumming.

"Ungh, John!" Paul screamed, and arched his back. Once he calmed down, he smiled dopily at John. "Thank you."

"Your welcome."

John shifted a little, until he had his hand around his own cock. Paul watched as John got himself off in amazement. John grunted, "Oh, princess." Then he came in his fist.

Paul smiled and with shining eyes reached out and touched John's cock, which was still hard, but was slowly softening. John smiled and kissed Paul's forehead.

"Johnny," Paul said with a yawn. "I'm tired."

John pulled the plug and the water ran out. John dried Paul off with a towel, and then wrapped one around each of their waists. John took Paul's hand and led him to Paul's room.

"Sit down on the bed and I'll find you something to wear, okay?" John said.

Paul nodded and sat on the edge of the bed.

John went through Paul's drawers and found a sweater and some boxers. He gave them to Paul, who put them on slowly. John lightly smacked Paul's ass, making Paul giggle. "You're so pretty, princess."

"Thank you. You're pretty, too, Johnny," Paul said, and yawned. He stretched, and then lied down on the bed. John pulled the blanket up to Paul's chin and kissed his forehead. "Will you stay here tonight?"

"Yeah, Paulie. I'll stay with you. I haven't got any clothes anyway," John laughed.

"You can wear mine," Paul said.

John put on a shirt and some boxers, and cuddled up behind Paul. Paul cuddled into John. John wrapped his arms around Paul and pressed his nose against the back of Paul's neck. John smelled his hair. It smelled like coconuts.

"Goodnight, princess," John whispered.

"Goodnight, Johnny," Paul whispered back.

And they fell asleep together, like that, not caring whether Paul's stupid dad found them in the morning. And, for once, they both felt showered with love, free of hate.


End file.
